Jungle Girl - Part 2

Jorani stepped across the jungle themed hotel room. She looked out the window to the street below, feeling like a caged animal. She needed to get out of there, get some fresh air. She always thought more clearly outside. And today Jorani had lots to consider.
She’d never contemplated betraying Narin before. Yes he often hurt her, however he also cared for her, supported her. Still, having Phinnuk killed . . . That she couldn’t take. On the flip side, Jorani knew she’d deliberately disobeyed his order. How was he supposed to react? He’d raised her since she was a small girl; Jorani owed him her life.
    She went to the bed and sat down, clutching a pillow to her chest. Narin’s guards would be looking for her by now. She needed to get back to the compound on her own, showing Master the utmost contrition, if that was what she was going to do. That would be the only way to regain his good graces. Jorani swung her long legs off the bed and undressed.
    She showered, washing yesterday’s dried blood off her face and legs, thinking all the while. The worst thing to deal with, worse perhaps than Narin’s rage, was the Cambodian police force. Torture and forced confessions were the norm here. She needed a disguise so the cops wouldn’t spot her but she had nothing except the clothes lying on the floor. She had no makeup. No weapon. No money.
    Jorani towel-dried her silky hair and slipped back into the cargo pants and black bra from yesterday. She didn’t, however, want to recycle the tank top. In the closet she spotted a worn Yankees jersey and slid it from the hanger. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and twisted it up, stuffing it under a baseball cap. Surveying herself in the mirror, she laughed. She definitely looked different. The shirt hung on her like a dress, but it would have to do. Now to work out the rest of her problems.
    She scanned the room, eyes settling on the bamboo dresser. She slid open the top drawer. Jackpot. There was a small knife there, just what she needed as she was now without a weapon--a position she tried to avoid. She stuffed it in the side pocket of her pants and rummaged through the rest of the contents: lifesavers, passport, map, rental car agreement, condoms, cash. Smiling, she grabbed a wad of cash--American bills, widely used in Cambodia--sliding it into her other pocket.
    Jorani paused at the door, listening for footsteps. Hearing none, she opened the door slowly, looking up and down the hall. Satisfied that it was empty, she darted out the side door leading to the dusty street.
    Keeping her head down, Jorani walked rapidly through the throngs of tourists toward the shopping district which spanned about five blocks. At the Shinoukville Central Market, she searched for the first clothing vendor she came to, wandering the racks of clothes, grabbing a couple of sundresses and flat heeled sandals, some underwear, three t-shirts in different colors, a pair of jeans, and an oversized pair of black shades. Mostly, except for the underwear, the kind of stuff she didn’t typically wear.
    In the dressing room, she slipped out of the cargo pants and jersey and pulled a flowered blue sundress over her head. She strapped on the sandals and twirled in front of the mirror, surveying herself. Jorani was taken aback-- she looked quite feminine, pretty, with the skirt swirling around her knees, and the thin straps snaking around her neck. Like a girl. Until you got to her bruised and swollen face, anyway.
    She paid for her items, wearing the new outfit and went to the drugstore where she purchased some concealer to cover the nasty bruises on her face and a tube of mascara. Her last stop was at the salon.
    The outing had done her good and Jorani was excited not to have been spotted by the cops. She had made up her mind what she was going to do. It was crystal clear.
    She stepped out of the salon, squinting against the late afternoon sun and was grabbed from behind, pulled off her feet and dragged into an alley, rough hands holding her by the arms. Then, her attacker shifted bringing one arm around her neck, pulling her tightly to him. Jorani struggled, dropping her shopping bags, trying to see who had nabbed her--a cop or one of Narin‘s men. She couldn’t quite lift her head enough to see his face, but from the tattoo of a tiger prowling along his bicep she knew it was Arun, one of Narin’s guards--they had already been sent for her. Her stomach sank. Now there was no way she could return home to the jungle as if everything was normal.
It didn’t matter. That wasn’t what Jorani intended to do anyway.
    Shei brought up her free arm, elbowing her stocky attacker solidly in the nose. He stumbled backwards into a row of garbage cans which clattered to the ground, attracting the attention of several window-shoppers.
    Jorani used the distraction to her advantage, running across the street, darting in front of a moto-taxi, through a pawn shop and out the back door into what should have been a deserted alley. Nhean, another one of Master’s beefy guards, waited for her there by the dumpster, lip curled in a sneer. Reflexively, she reached for her knife, realizing too late that it was still in her pants in the shopping bag across the street.
    She pivoted, ready to run back into the pawn shop, stopping short. There stood Arun, nose bleeding, looking none too pleased with her.
    Jorani was cornered, but she refused to go down without a fight. She kicked, landing a strong blow to Arun's knee, whirling toward Nhean as he leapt toward her, taking her down, smashing her head against the wall as she went--an explosion of pain, then blackness.


         ---------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------

    “Jorani, where the hell are you?” Jake’s voice reverberated around him as he stalked through the empty hotel room. All that remained of her was a tank top on the floor alongside a damp towel.
    The closet door stood open and Jake’s favorite Yankees shirt was missing. Where could she have gone, and how? Jorani knew the cops were swarming the block in search of her. She’d need . . . he spun around as realization set in. Oh, no.
    Jake searched the dresser. Sure enough, the money was missing. And the knife.
    He kicked the drawer closed. And then, for good measure, he kicked the wall. Damn it. He should have known better than to leave her alone. What had he been thinking?
Seeing the jagged cuts and scars on her legs had done it.
    A few years back a good friend of his, Cheryl, had hooked up with a man who abused her. Chuck was a likeable guy and it went on a little over a year without anyone being aware. One night, Cheryl confessed to Jake, terrified, swearing him to secrecy, telling him about the brutal attacks, the verbal, as well as physical, abuse. Jake, having never seen any bruises on her and genuinely liking Chuck, didn’t take her seriously. Until one morning when she turned up dead, suffocated by her own pillow. That was Jake’s single biggest error in judgment.
    Ever since that day, Jake vowed to never allow another woman to be abused if he could do anything to prevent it. Seeing those scars had pulled an old trigger and all rational thought had flown out the window.
    Tucking the butt of his Colt .45 into the waistband of his jeans, Jake left on foot. Jorani couldn’t have gotten far in the short time he’d been gone without transportation. He would catch her and bring her back. The last thing he wanted was her warning Narin that he was coming.
    Figuring she would head into town, Jake walked briskly toward the market. There was a commotion up ahead and people crowded around an alley, trying to get in on the action. One person whooshed past him and then another. One of them had to be Jorani. Trouble followed her like a lost puppy dog.
    Jake followed their trail into a pawn shop. The wide-eyed clerk was frantically dialing the phone, apparently stunned by the parade of people running through his small shop. Jake shielded his gun, pretending to browse through jewelry and old weapons, as he inched his way slowly to the back door. Shouts indicated a commotion outside. Jake cocked his gun, ready to shoot.
    He pushed through the door just in time to see Jorani go down. Jake fired three quick rounds into her assailant who slumped to the ground. He knelt above Jorani, ready to check her pulse, when he was sucker punched from behind. Jake rolled, shifting his gun back into position and getting off a shot as he stood up, barely grazing the side of tattooed guy’s neck. The goon moved forward and Jake took him out with a single blast to the heart.
    Sirens approached. They had to get out of here. Jorani was still unconscious. Jake scooped her up and carried her out of the alley to the side street. He waved down a passing moto-taxi. “My girlfriend had a bit much to drink. Can you get us back to the Dada Guesthouse ASAP?” Jake held up a fifty.
      The driver was happy to oblige, no questions asked, and soon Jake was settling Jorani on the freshly-made bed. He took advantage of her being out cold to chain her wrists to the bedpost again. No more leaving her free. Jake went to the bathroom, returning with a cool damp cloth which he pressed to her forehead. He wanted to make sure she was ok so he could take a turn at her when she came to.
    He studied her cuts and bruises, gingerly sponging the washcloth over them. The gash on her cheek was particularly deep. She probably should have had stitches, not that going to the hospital had been an option at the time. That wound would leave a scar when it healed.
    For the first time since he’d seen her today, Jake actually noticed Jorani. Her body looked graceful in a feminine blue sundress. And her hair was different. No longer hanging down her back, it was cut in a sleek, chin-length bob, matted with blood in the back. Jake imagined she’d looked beautiful right before she was attacked. He sighed. Hell, she still looked beautiful. Too bad she was as trustworthy as a wild kitten.
    Jake kicked off his shoes, settling back against the pillows. He’d purchased extra weapons and gear today--things they would need to ambush Narin. Two fellow agents, stationed in Phnom Penh were on their way to meet with them, devise a plan, and assist with the capture if needed. Jake wanted Jorani awake and ready to meet them or else he’d have to leave her here.
    Jake reached down for his cell phone at the foot of the bed, his hand accidentally grazing Jorani’s leg. She kicked out at him, starting to come to, and Jake moved back to avoid the blows. Then, as quickly as she started, Jorani stilled, asleep again. Jake looked at her body, primed and ready to strike even while out cold. He grinned, shaking his head. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he was leaving her here alone.



----------------------------------------------------------

    “I’ll go in and distract him, while you take out the guards.” Jorani was sitting around a table at the seafood restaurant speaking with Jake’s fellow operatives: two fit bald men wearing identical suits who looked to be in their thirties, one black, one white. The tall black one had been introduced as Louis and the short white one was Paul. Jorani hated them on sight.
    These men represented everything she despised. Men who knew nothing of life in the jungle, who cared nothing for the people of Cambodia. Men who were just here to get a job done, collect a paycheck, and leave. Their suggestion was to go in and bomb sections of the jungle, killing everything within a two thousand yard radius, and not just their target. If you asked Jorani, these men were the real savages.
    She glanced at Jake, looking handsome in his white silk shirt and black slacks. Judging from his grimace, he wasn’t a supporter of their idea, either. He was listening to their spiel, but didn’t seem taken with it. And then he spoke.
    “Whatever we decide, I don’t want Jorani armed.”
    What?
    “I realize you don’t trust me, but how can I go in unarmed?” she asked, trying to remain calm when, inside her, she wanted to lash out.
    “I don’t want you going in at all,” Jake’s jaw was set, his blue eyes determined.
    “You think that blowing up the jungle is the way to resolve this? How will we even know if we’ve succeeded in getting Narin?” Jorani clenched her teeth.
    “I don’t want to blow up the jungle either.”
    “What ,do you want to do?” Louis asked, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. “By all means, let’s hear it.”
    “I haven’t decided yet.” Jake blew out a breath.
    Pleased with that, maybe she still had time to reason with Jake, Jorani ran her fingers through her newly short hair. She’d showered the dried blood out of it and put on her new blue dress before joining the men for dinner. She’d also convinced Jake to check for her bag with her clothes and the knife on the way to the restaurant, but no luck. No one remembered seeing it.
    Excitement had battled nervousness within her all evening, and she‘d barely touched her shrimp. One part of her wanted to get Narin so that he would never be able to harm her or those she cared about ever again. The other side felt loyalty toward the man who had saved her as a child and raised her. A man who had been so esteemed in her eyes that she would risk anything for him.
    And then there was Jake. He came with a danger all his own. There was something about him that Jorani liked and trusted, but along with that came something else that was deeply unsettling to her--an aura, perhaps. She was torn between wanting to execute this plan with him and wanting to execute him. He threatened everything that was familiar to her. He threatened life as she knew it.
    What should she do?
    No matter what, she didn’t trust these other men sitting here, only wanting to do what was quickest and easiest for them.
    “If you just want to blow up the jungle, why wait for us? You could have done that at any time.” Jorani pointed out.
    “Not without your input,” Louis answered. “We need to know when Narin is away and when he is home. We need to know where the rubies are located and if they are salvageable. We need to know if there is a second operation that we may be unaware of. You have all those answers.”
    Jorani turned to Jake, unwilling to share this information. “I need to speak with you privately.”
    Jake stood and pulled Jorani’s chair back. “Gentlemen,’ he said with a nod. “We’ll discuss this and be in touch with you in the morning.”
    Louis and Paul exchanged glances. “Our word isn’t good enough for you?”
    “Not yet, it’s not.” Jake said and Jorani was grateful that he understood. “You have to show the lady some sincerity before she’ll be willing to help you.”
    Paul stood up, his face beet red. “Lady? This woman tried to kill you!”
    Louis put a hand on his forearm. “Sit down. We’ll talk to them in the morning.”
    Jake, his hand on Jorani’s lower back, guided them out of the restaurant to the dark sidewalk. The evening air was muggy and people fanned themselves as they walked. It was a busy night for the local establishments. Jorani inhaled a lungful of sea air, trying to calm herself.
    As soon as they were clear of the restaurant, Jorani removed Jake’s hand from her back.
    He looked at her quizzically but said nothing.
    They walked in silence, glancing around for signs of the police or Narin’s men before turning a corner, trying to stick to side streets and shadows as much as possible. If and when she managed to get out of this mess with Narin, she had the cops to deal with. Narin, who had probably bought off at least half of the local police department, was probably better equipped to protect her from law enforcement than Jake.
    “Jorani,” Jake said, pulling her over into a dark corner beside some stairs. “It’ll be much easier for me to keep you from being seen if we can walk close together, make it look like we’re lovers.” He looked down at her, “You‘re a striking woman and, unfortunately, you are attracting a lot of attention.”
    “No.”
    “It’s for the best; just lean against me a little. There are a ton of people out here and I can’t keep them all in my sight.”
    Jorani scanned the street, filled with locals and tourists alike. Unfortunately, Jake was right. Narin’s goons and undercover cops could be anywhere. She moved closer to Jake, her body tense. He slipped an arm around her and she instinctively recoiled from his touch.
    Jake looked confused, this was all so innocuous, but he seemed to understand when he whispered, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” He slipped his arm around her again and this time she forced herself to relax, leaning her head against his broad shoulder. They walked the remaining two blocks that way, her body swaying with his as they moved.
    They were rounding the corner to their hotel when Jake tensed against her. “Get down, Jorani!” he yelled, stepping in front of her as shots were fired. Jorani ducked and rolled behind some garbage cans. She peered around them in time to see Thom and Sotha, both employed by Narin, darting down the street out of sight.
    Jake was lying on the sidewalk in front of her, blood oozing from his arm.

         
_____________________________________________________________________________________________




Jake had taken a bullet for her. Jorani’s head spun and she rocked back on her heels, stunned.
No one had ever stepped into the line of fire for her before. In fact, she was usually the one getting pushed to the forefront. Her mind reeled at Jake’s selflessness. Why would he stop a bullet meant for her? She had caused him nothing but trouble since the day he met her. Jorani reached for the wall to steady herself. Jake had saved her life.
Jake! Oh my God! Jorani snapped herself back to reality. He was bleeding, hurt, while she was pondering the meaning of life. She had to get a grip and get him help.
Jorani crawled forward, examining his injury. Blood was seeping from his left shoulder. Jorani unbuttoned his white silk shirt, balled it up, and pressed it hard against the wound with both hands. “Jake, can you hear me?” she asked.
He was unresponsive. Her fingertips found his carotid artery. The pulse was there--faint, but there. Jorani couldn’t let him die. She looked around, wildly, for help, seeing nothing but a blur of people crowded around them.
An old man with wispy white hair, a shopkeeper, crouched beside her. “I’ve called for an ambulance, ma‘am. Help will arrive shortly.”
Jorani blew out a breath of relief, then stopped short. She couldn’t go the hospital--there would be way too much exposure for her there. She had to stay here, in hiding. Jake’s injuries looked too severe for Jorani to be able to take care of him on her own. He needed medical attention quickly and was going to have to go without her.
Snaking her hand down Jake’s side to his back pocket, she fished out his wallet and tucked it in the front of her dress. She needed the room key and Jake would take longer to identify without having any id on him. Jorani felt guilty, but this would buy her much-needed time to come up with a plan.
The high-pitched shriek of sirens approached. Jorani glanced down at Jake one last time, his eyes were closed, his face was pale, he was losing too much blood. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Thank you, friend.” She kissed him lightly on the temple and slipped back into the shadows, moving quietly into the hotel.
Once upstairs, she flopped on the bed and rifled through the wallet, looking for the phone number that should be there. There it was. Dr. Pomona. Jake had told her how well Dr. Pomona had treated his knife wound.
Jorani dialed the doctor’s cell, scrawled in pen on the back of his business card, with shaking fingers. She explained what she needed and Dr. Pomona assured her he would meet Jake at the hospital. He would make sure Jake got the best of care. Jorani thanked him and hung up.
She stared at the wall, a plan forming in her mind as her jumbled thoughts settled. Narin had repeatedly raped and beaten Jorani over the years. Then he caused Phinnuk to die. And tonight, he had almost taken Jake from her, and might possibly succeed--Jorani did not know the extent of Jake’s injuries. Anger percolated within her, starting small and growing to a large, bubbling black rage that threatened to overtake her. Jorani paced the room, cagey. Narin’s behavior was unacceptable. He had to be stopped.  Who was better equipped to stop him than her? Jorani knew what she must do.



  -----------------------------------------------------------------

    Crickets’ chirps competed with the sound of her own heartbeat as Jorani crept through the dark toward Narin’s house, concealed behind the cover of lush jungle foliage. Rain began to fall and the cool droplets brought welcome relief from the oppressive heat.
She was back in her cargo pants and tank top and armed with a silent sniper rifle, a .22 pistol, and a hunting knife. She was ready to kill in any way necessary.
    Her plan was to take out all six remaining guards. There were usually four on duty and four off, but two were dead and Narin was now down to six men. Jorani suspected that during the night, four would be on duty and two would be sleeping. She would take care of them first; then she would seek out to Narin.
    Jorani knew the guards’ routines. Two covered the back of the property, one covered the front and east side, and one covered the west side. She crouched behind a large tree and looked out toward the stone house. The yard was dimly lit by the yellowish glow from motion lights anchored at the corners of the house. She could see two guards in back--Thom and Sotha--the ones who shot Jake. From this vantage, she could also make out Rithisak, covering the west side. Thom and Sotha were pacing and Rithisak leaned against a jeep, apparently picking at his fingernails.
    Her gun was quiet, but she needed to time it right, take these three out in rapid succession. Thom and Sotha were moving in opposite directions, one toward her, one away. Jorani raised her rifle, pressing the butt against her shoulder, and looked down the sight. Pop, pop. Two perfect shots to the chest, sending Thom, who had been moving toward her, backwards into the wall. One down.
    Jorani moved the gun slightly to the left, firing another two shots and taking out Sotha.    Two.
    Jorani inched out from behind the tree. Rithisak was still examining his fingers, his stocky body at a sideways angle to her. She aimed and Rithisak’s head exploded. Three.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She moved completely from her jungle cover, darting toward the house, and flattening her back against its smooth surface. She side-stepped around, behind several prickly bushes, to the front, where she paused, looking for Kim.
    She found him sitting on the teak steps leading into the house, his lanky body stretched out, staring into space. The battery-operated radio at his feet played a Guns ’N Roses song. Easy. Jorani aimed and fired, shattering his skull. No second shot necessary. Four.
She dropped the rifle to the ground. She wouldn’t need this one inside. She wiped her hands together, proud--target practice had paid off in spades. If Jorani could see it, Jorani could shoot it.
    But Jorani preferred working up close and personal. She was excited to move into the house and claim her next victims. She felt a little giddy, in fact. The evening’s success was going to her head. She could see the headlines now: ‘Jungle Girl Takes Down Crime Ring Single-handedly’. She smiled.
    The front door was unlocked, testament to Narin’s perceived invulnerability. Jorani moved in silently, sneaking up the stairs to the guards’ second story quarters. Vibol was fast asleep, snoring, sprawled on his back, his arm flung across the pillow. Rest in peace. Jorani pressed her pistol to his temple, firing a clean shot from her silenced .22. Blood and brains splattered against the nightstand. Five.
    She tiptoed through the adjoining bathroom into Munny’s room. He too was sleeping peacefully, face down. She put her pistol to the base of his skull and squeezed the trigger, letting the pillow capture the mess. Six.
Jorani didn’t regret these kills, not one bit. These men treated her cruelly in the past, ignoring her elevated status with Narin, and they meant nothing to her.
    Now for the prize.
    Jorani spun around, adrenaline at a high, and stopped dead in her tracks, looking down the barrel of a gun.



        - --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    “Thank you for taking care of my dirty work,” Narin said, waving her toward the hallway with the butt of his gun. He was dressed like a pimp today in yellow polyester pants and a short-sleeved dress shirt with a loud jungle print, unbuttoned at the chest, displaying ropy layers of gold chains.
    Jorani did as instructed, saying nothing.
    “Please, let’s go and talk in the parlor,” Narin’s voice was a silky purr.
    Jorani stepped silently down the stairs, through the foyer and into the parlor.
    Narin followed, his gun trained on her. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, prying her pistol from her fingers. He tossed it casually on the coffee table. “You’ve had a busy night. Have a seat.” Narin nodded at the pristine white sofa behind her.
    “No thanks,” Jorani said. “I’ll stand.”
    “Suit yourself, love,” Narin said with a smile, settling himself onto an uncomfortable-looking white loveseat. “I have a proposition for you.” He leaned forward, holding the pistol between his knees with both hands. Narin traced the gun’s trigger idly with his forefinger. It was still pointed at Jorani.
    She flinched.
    “Now that you’ve gotten rid of the riffraff for us, decreased the size of the payroll, we have much to discuss.”
    Us?
    Narin continued, “I’ve been waiting for this moment to come for the past few years.      You’re ready to take charge. You’re masterful, cunning, and strong--more than capable of running this operation yourself someday, and, more importantly right now, running it with me, as my partner. And my wife.”
    Jorani gasped. Partner? Wife? Maybe she was more tired than she thought. She’d dreamt of becoming notorious Narin’s wife since she was a teenager, but she’d never even dared to dream of becoming a partner in his successful enterprise.
    Thoughts spun through her mind, muddling all her plans like a tornado ripping through a trailer park, wreaking havoc. She found herself confused and needing to sit, so Jorani perched on the edge of the white sofa to think.
    Narin was seriously offering her the chance of a lifetime. That meant he trusted her and recognized her value. In all her life, Jorani never had that type of affirmation from anyone before. She hadn’t realized until this very moment, how much she craved that recognition.
    But was he serious? Or was this all a trick designed to catch her off guard so that he could eliminate her once and for all? Did Jorani really want to steal from, and murder, innocent miners, working to support their families, for the rest of her life? True, gem theft was what she knew, however, she’d never been in the position to steal from and kill honest people before. She’d only protected Narin from retaliation.
    Still . . .this was an opportunity to head a profitable business. Jorani could visualize it. They would contract new security, of course. And Jorani would be much more hands on with daily operations than Narin had been. Together, they would achieve more success than one could on his or her own.
    Frankly, it sounded great.
    A noise out front brought Narin and Jorani simultaneously to their feet. Footsteps. The front door burst open, bringing with it a wave of humid air. Then there was Jake. Dressed in faded jeans and a white t-shirt with a bandage wrapping his chest and shoulder. His hospital pallor made him look exhausted, but there he stood holding the rifle Jorani had dropped outside.
    Her eyes widened. Not good. Everything was unraveling again. She had to do something to correct the situation.
    While the men faced each other, wary, sizing each other up, Jorani slipped her hand down her leg to the ankle holster and retrieved her unsheathed knife, the blade cool and reassuring against her palm.
    Jorani gripped the knife in her fist like a hammer. And she pounced.



  ----------------------------------------------------------------


    He never saw her coming. She brought the knife down into his neck, twisting, severing the artery. Blood spurted from the wound. He tried to fight back, raising his hands to grip her slick wrists--Jorani was already soaked in his blood. She raised her foot, landing a savage kick to his knee.
    Crack. His kneecap shattered and he crumpled to the floor.
    “Jorani?” Jake asked, moving to stand beside her. He raised an eyebrow, pointing to the rifle.
    She shook her head. “No, thanks. This is my fight. I want to finish it.”
    Jake nodded and stepped back. He understood.
    Jorani straddled Narin, knife in her fist, gazing down into his pain-contorted face. His black eyes narrowed as he stared back at her, too weak to speak. “This is for Phinnuk,” she said. Jorani raised her arm and brought it down sharply, plunging the blade into his heart.
    Jorani felt Narin’s body shudder, and she waited there as he died, wanting to absorb that final moment for Phinnuk, herself, and all the others Narin had harmed.
    Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and silent. She was momentarily surprised, but then it made sense. Everything and everyone Jorani knew--her entire life--was now gone. Not only that, she’d possibly given up the only chance she’d have to make something of herself with Narin’s help. It was a chance she wouldn’t take--Jorani now realized that a life filled with people always hurting one another, mistrusting one another, was a life she could adapt to, just not one she would choose.
    But now what? All of a sudden she had no one to turn to. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do.
    Someone cleared their throat behind her and she jumped. Jake. He’d come to rescue her.   
      She’d gotten lost in her reverie and forgotten he was there. She glanced at him and did a double-take--he was so pale. Coming here had been too much for him. He needed to get back to the hospital quickly--his wound had apparently resumed bleeding, judging by the pinkish stain spreading across his bandage.
She went to him, looking into his tired eyes. “You could have gotten killed coming here,” she said, smoothing down the edge of his bandage.
    “Well, you already tried that once. I figured you’d moved on to bigger and better things,” Jake said with a half-laugh. He tried to cover the pain unsuccessfully--Jorani saw his grimace.
    “Let’s get you out of here,” Jorani took one last look at Narin’s bloody body, then looped her arm through Jake’s good one, leading him toward the battered Jeep convertible parked out front.
    “Ok,” Jake said. “We’ll leave this mess to the authorities.” He climbed into the passenger seat as Jorani slid behind the wheel.
    Jorani turned the ignition. The Jeep sputtered, then vibrated to life. “I have a question for you.”
    “Shoot,” Jack said. Then he grinned. “Just not literally.”
    Jorani ignored that. “Why was the CIA interested in Narin?”
    “He was using his profits to funnel weapons to a terrorist organization. That’s all I can tell you,” Jake said.
    “I had no idea,” Jorani said. Knowing that made her feel somewhat better about her decision.
    “I do have some good news for you,” Jake said, turning toward her.
    “Oh?” Jorani tilted her head, treating him to a rare smile. She needed some good news about now.
    “You’re off the hook for Chann’s murder.”
    “What? How?” Jorani asked, shaking her head, her newly short hair tickling her face.                “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “After ridding Cambodia of that bastard,” Jake said, glancing toward Narin’s home, “the CIA will be in the government’s good graces. And your friend, Chann, was wanted here for a series of money-laundering schemes. We’ve done Cambodians a favor on both counts. They’ll get their rubies back and they won’t have to support these men while they rot behind bars.”
    Jorani shot Jake a look. “Jake, you know the CIA didn’t kill Chann. Or Narin.”
    “Sure we did,” Jake said, winking at her. “You’re one of us, right?”
    Jorani considered his words as they set off, bouncing down the bumpy jungle path. Could she be a foreign freelancer for the CIA? Working undercover, making bad guys squirm, being with her new friend Jake. Hmmm . . .The future was looking a bit brighter already.
    “Yeah,” she said, yelling to be heard over the wind, a big smile spreading across her face.   
      “You bet I am.” Jorani stepped on the gas, laughing as Jake swatted away incoming branches. She had no choice really. Jake couldn’t survive the jungle without her.

THE END